


A Discovery

by Crustac3an



Series: The Hospital [7]
Category: Flight Rising
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 08:06:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17504801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crustac3an/pseuds/Crustac3an
Summary: Hoping to distract himself from his work, Royal spends some time exploring the hospital. He finds more than he was hoping to.





	A Discovery

It had been nearly two weeks since Royal's arrival at the hospital. He'd spent most of those two weeks in the morgue, under the pretense of performing the proper burial rites for any Imperials who happened to pass away on the premises. The little Pearlcatcher who worked there was not happy about that, though to his credit, he was at least trying to hide it. Royal was supposed to be there now, looking through the pathologist's autopsy notes and waiting for any... opportunities to present themselves.

Today, though, he'd had to get out of the basement for a while. Ever since his last meeting with Tremain, something about the morgue was putting him on edge. Maybe it was knowing how close he really was to the dead Imperial downstairs. Maybe it was just the thought of spending so much time in a room used to house the dead. He wouldn't be gone long, of course. If anything happened during his short absence, Tremain could handle it. Royal just couldn't stand it any longer, standing around breathing unnaturally-chilled air that smelled like disinfectant almost strong enough to mask the stench of decay, trying not to look at the drawers that lined the walls, trying not to think about what was in those drawers....

So instead, he'd taken to wandering the halls of the hospital, climbing the stairs from floor to floor despite the pain in caused him. Usually, the pain was a welcome distraction, but today the twinge in his leg was only bringing back memories that Royal would prefer not to think about. Getting out of the basement wasn't helping as much as he had hoped it would, either. Something about the rest of the hospital was putting him on edge as well, and until now, he hadn't been able to put his finger on it. He was completely alone as he walked the halls. The last time he had seen another living soul, ironically enough, had been in the morgue. The only sound as he wandered through yet another empty ward was the sound of his own footsteps. It was strange. Even out here in the wilderness, there should have been more people around in a place like this. 

He tried to ignore it, but there was little to focus on besides his isolation. As enormous as the hospital was, much of it seemed to go unused. Entire floors were ready to receive patients at any time, kept spotless and prepared for the doctors to do their work whenever they needed to, but there was just no one around. Floor after floor had brought more of the same. Gray walls, white tile, softly buzzing lights overhead. 

The monotony wasn't helping to soothe his nerves. It was, however, finally broken when he rounded the corner at the bottom of the next flight of stairs. Not only was the door to the next ward locked, it had been plastered with notices and warnings. Some of them seemed to have been written by Tremain himself. Some of them were addressed directly to him. Others were more general: one simply read "WARNING". "CONTAINMENT WARD. THIS DOOR NOT TO BE OPENED WITHOUT WRITTEN PERMISSION AND PRESENCE OF AT LEAST 5 ABLE-BODIED MEMBERS OF STAFF", read another. 

Royal's curiosity was piqued. Tremain hadn't said anything about this. He wasn't about to try to pry the door open and sneak inside, of course, but... just looking couldn't hurt. Like the doors to every ward, this one had a window in it, made from thick, reinforced glass. The window, like the rest of the door, had been taped over, but Royal couldn't resist. Carefully, he peeled the signs away, just far enough to peer inside.

There wasn't much to see. It was quite dark, but Royal supposed there was no need to keep everything so brightly lit if no one was allowed inside. From what he could discern, the next hall looked much like the one he was standing in, but it was absolutely filthy. The floors were no longer white, smeared with dirt and debris. The wallpaper had peeled. Or, no not peeled- it had been shredded. Something had scratched it away from the walls, leaving gouges in the plaster behind it.

And, at the end of the hall, something caught Royal's eye. Movement. A person? He had never been able to see well in the dark, but in the gloom, he could just make out the shape of a hunched figure clad in tattered clothes. They staggered slowly down the hall. They looked hurt. Did they need help? Royal glanced over his shoulder, wondering if he should go back and find one of the doctors- but who knew how long that would take? Tentatively, he reached up and knocked gently on the glass, hoping to catch the stranger's attention. Whoever they were, they jolted at the sound. For a moment, they only stared. Then, with almost impossible speed, they rushed at him.

They slammed against the door with enough force to bow it outward. It bounced back into place with a groan and a rattle. Royal leapt back, instinctively reaching for a sword he wasn't carrying. A hand, or at least, something that had once been a hand, scraped down the window, leaving behind a trail of reddish sludge. It couldn't be called blood. Not anymore. The creature regained its footing surprisingly quickly and pressed itself against the door, trying vainly to escape. It clawed at the glass, remnants of gloves and skin hanging from its mangled fingers like gruesome curtains. Royal drew back even further. Even through the door, he was sure he could smell it. Perhaps he was just imagining it. But he couldn't be imagining the creature's face, the way its decaying flesh had fallen away to expose muscle and bone and broken, gnashing teeth.

There was a wall between them, but that meant nothing. Royal knew the wall would crumble long before the undead stopped moving. He'd seen this before, and now it was all he could think about. The teeth, and the bones, the smell of death and the screams. Oh, gods, the screams. He could still hear them now, he was sure of it. 

He knew what he had to do; he had to fight. He had to stand strong against these monsters. No one else would. But memories of the battlefield, memories he thought he'd forced himself to forget, were all rushing back to him now and he couldn't even think straight, let alone fight. He couldn't even run, and when he tried, bolting for the stairs in a blind panic, his bad leg twisted under him and sent him falling. Falling, just like last time- except last time hadn't been like this. Last time, he had been on a battlefield, and last time, he hadn't let his fear get the better of him. 

He stayed there for a few moments, sprawled ungracefully on the cold, hard floor, trying to calm himself down. Perhaps just waiting for the creature (he was certain it was behind him, it had to be) to catch up with him. He would have deserved it. But, again like last time, death never came. Trembling, Royal forced himself back up to his knees. He was better than this. He had to be better than this. But when he opened his eyes, he was faced with a scarred, ruined face, and this time he had to slap a hand over his mouth to keep himself from screaming.

"What are you doing down here? This ward is quarantined," Vascula said. 

"What- what is this?" Royal managed. His hand slowly made its way back to where the hilt of his rapier should have been. He needed a sword. Some kind of weapon. Anything. That thing in there could not be allowed to live- if it could be called living.

"The Afterlife Project. What's left of it, anyway. Tremain said you knew about it." She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"I... I was under the impression it had been..." Destroyed. Put down. Whatever nicer-sounding turn of phrase they would have used. Anything, but not just stored in a closet somewhere like an old coat. What kind of person kept- those _things-_ around? What was Tremain thinking? What had he been planning on _doing_ with them?

Vascula shook her head and extended a hand. It took a moment for Royal to realize that she actually intended to help him up. After a moment's hesitation, he took it. It wasn't as if it was going to be any more of an injury to his pride.


End file.
